


this strange feeling

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [54]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: ...kind of..., Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M, Oblivious Newt, Pre-Slash, so oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: Newt’s experiencing some strange side-effects post-Drift; side-effects that may have something to do with Hermann.





	this strange feeling

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: ""I’m an android and you’re a human and wow what is that warmth I feel when I see you?" please!!"

So, in his defence, it’s not like he’s running around doing things that are humanly impossible. Sure, maybe he  _should_ be slightly more effected by the Kaiju Blue he works with on a daily basis, and sure, he probably ‘sleeps’ less than he should, but come on, they’re hurtling rapidly towards the end of the human race. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

“Or I’ll be a rockstar!” Newt shouts after Hermann, even though, yeah, that’d kill him if he were human and it’ll probably fry his circuitry, but, like, fuck it, they’re gonna die anyway, right?

So he Drifts with the cold-cut, which shouldn’t be possible, but come on, Newt was a genius even  _before_ he transferred his conscious to an artificial body, and now he’s less limited by a human body, so, like, he figures out a way to do it.

And then he’s jerking on the ground, Hermann’s frightened gaze in his face, and then he’s off and away and he Drifts again and with  _Hermann_ which is great, it’s awesome, and Hermann doesn’t ask, because he may be a jerk about some things but he’s  _not_ about things like this.

And then it’s all over, which is—

It’s somethings. Relief, perhaps—emotions are weird, partially because Newt was so  _young_ when he transferred and thus, arguably, not as mature as he looks—or, at least, he hasn’t matured the same way everyone else has? Whatever.

So he carries on, does an epic Gottlieb-Geiszler world lecture tour, and then. That’s it. It’s over. A brief flash of brightness in the void, only to be forgotten a few moments later.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Hermann snaps, stirring his tea. The bite isn’t there, though, the statement—something that would have, in the past, brought a scowl to darken his expression—half-hearted.

Newt pouts. “I almost  _died_  for this, Hermann,” he whines, “and all I can get is a few seconds of fame?”

Hermann shrugs, directing his gaze back to the book in his lap, and Newt huffs, wandering off to find something to tinker with, shoves aside the fuzzy feeling at the way that the sunlight filtering through the window softens Hermann’s features.

The next time it happens, they’re bickering again, and Newt pauses, frowning. It passes almost as soon as it’s come, and he marks it down as a minor malfunction and resolves to take a look at it later.

It keeps happening, though, and Newt’s close to tearing out his hair out in frustration. “Hermann,” he says, finally, after three months, because, loathe as he is to admit it, Hermann is the better of the two of them when it comes to engineering and coding, at least in this case.  “Hermann, I think I’m malfunctioning.”

“What?” Hermann exclaims, lurching forward towards Newt, one hand white-knuckled on his cane, the other making various aborted movements, and his gaze rakes over Newt. “How long? What’s happening? Why didn’t you say anything—?”

Newt raises his hands in a gesture of surrender at the rapid-fire questions, the taller man practically hyperventilating. “Herms. Dude,  _breathe_ ,” he reminds the other, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Hermann scowls at him. “Easy for you to say,” he mutters, but does draw in a few deliberate, if shaky breathes.

“And, to answer your questions,” Newt continues, ticking each off on a finger as he goes, “four months, give or take a week, hot flashes, and I figured it was just a malfunctioning wire somewhere. Which it isn’t,” he adds, “I checked. Whatever it is, I can’t find it.”

Hermann bites his lip. When he speaks, his voice is shaking. “I—I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks, man,” Newt says gratefully.

* * *

“Well,” says Hermann, eyes flickering over the tablet-screen hooked up to Newt, mouth in a thin line. “Whatever it is, I’m…not sure what it is. It doesn’t seem to be impairing you, so I’m not sure what to do. My apologies, Newton.”

Newt sighs, offering a weak smile. “Well, thanks anyway, Hermann.”

Hermann unhooks the tablet, setting it on the counter, and fidgets. “I—I’m truly sorry,” he says, “I wish that there was something I could tell you—”

“Whatever,” Newt waves him off, “I guess if this is what kills me, it’s what kills me.”

The other scowls at him. “ _Newton_ ,” he hisses, “please don’t  _joke_ about such things—”

“ _Alright!_ ” Newt exclaims, raising his hands in a placating manner. “Shit, dude, look, I’m—I’m sorry, alright? Geez, didn’t know you cared that much.”

As soon as it’s out, he wants to take it back—Hermann’s expression is wounded, and he bites out, “I—of  _course_  I do, Newton, I’ve always—I’ve always… _cared_  for you, Newton.”

He falls silent, and Newt swallows—a reflex that serves no purpose—and says, “I…shit, Hermann, I—” he stops, uncertain of how to continue. “I’m—sorry, Hermann,” he finishes, lamely.

Hermann gives a small nod. “It’s simply that I had thought you were…aware of the fact,” he admits.

“Well, I guess you’re right about me being an idiot,” Newt says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Mind you, I’m never gonna say it again.” It works—Hermann’s lips twitch up, and Newt fixes the panel on his arm back into place, but, for some reason he can’t pinpoint, he can’t seem to drag his gaze away from Hermann’s smile.


End file.
